1.17.23 // Embers of the Last Years

The embers of the last years are slowly ​beginning to cool and fade.
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The fires that burnt down all of my understanding, my trust, and my truth have transformed into billowing breezes of smothering smoke, morbidly beautiful, dancing on the wind, and suffocating to try and hold, to breathe, or to understand.
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Desolate and scorched earth is all that seems to be left under the smoldering cinders and fumes.
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The landscape is foreign- my once lush, moss-filled, mountainous mind feels sensitive, raw, and like a wild animal desperately attempting to find safety to attend to its wounds.
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It's the aftermath of tragedy.
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Past the realization of what was happening, past the most intense burn, and past the deep knowing that what was can never return, at least not in the way it used to be.
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And it is in the moments of the embers dimming that realization and optimism sneak in. It is between the blows of grief and anger and pain that hope and grace and potential show up.
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It is a reminder that even great forests have to burn to continue thriving. It is a reminder that ashes are fertilizer for growth to come. It is a reminder that smoke-filled air is only temporary. It is a reminder that dark days mean sunshine is ahead.